


Boys in the Street

by heartshaker



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Homophobia, M/M, Second POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartshaker/pseuds/heartshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My son, stop kissing boys in the street.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys in the Street

**Author's Note:**

> really happy and proud of this; inspired from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rcZLMtWEcF0)!
> 
>  
> 
> follow my [tumblr](http://120hjm.tumblr.com/) ♡

You are five years-old when you meet him. Your heart thumps in your chest as you look at him sitting in the grass, on your usual spot, with unruly brown hair and skin as white as milk. Your hands shake as his brown eyes meet yours and he smiles. Two front teeth missing. You watch as he stands up and you notice that you have to look down, but not quite. You watch as he looks at the net in your hand before grinning.

     “Hi, there! I’m Oikawa Tooru and I’m five! What’s your name?”

     You ignore the way your heart speeds up at the sound of his voice and holds the net tighter. “M-My names Iwaizumi Hajime. I’m five too.”

     His grin grows wider and he sits back down, patting the space beside him for you to sit down as well. “Nice to meet you, Iwa-chan!”

     You furrow your brows at ‘Iwa-chan’, yet your body buzzes at the feel of his thigh touching yours. “Iwa-chan?”

     “Iwa-chan!” He confirms, looking ahead of him. “Iwaizumi is a bit long, you know? And we’re friends now!”

     You follow his eyes and nod. “Friends.”

     You ignore the feeling of his hand slowly getting the net from your hand and asking you on what it does. You ignore the buzzing feeling of lying at bed that night and thinking, _I have a friend and his name is Oikawa Tooru. He makes me really happy_.

—

You are eight years-old when you kiss him in his room. It’s both sundown and he’s about to leave for a vacation at Tokyo. You tell him that you’re gonna miss him and that you hope he doesn’t forget about you. He laughs and leans head on your shoulder. You ignore the warm feeling spreading over you.

     “That’s ridiculous, Iwa-chan!” he looks up at you and you pretend not to notice the way his eyelash curl in his cheeks. “I’d never forget about you!”

     Your face heats up and you quickly look away. “You’d probably meet a new friend in Tokyo…” you mumble, playing with your fingers. You feel his head leave your shoulder and you feel the world crumble. Why’d you say that? You and him aren’t friends anymore.

     “Hajime.”

    Your heart beats a little faster in your chest and you quickly look up at his brown eyes, clouded with worry. You watch as a strand of hair bounces from his hair; you ignore the way it leaves you aching to brush it away. You watch his hand slowly hold yours and to intertwine them; you ignore the way it makes your body feel like exploding and thinking, _I want to hold his hand every day_.

     You watch as his eyes water and your heart aches. You think that you hate this. You hate seeing him cry and you hate seeing him cry _because of you_. You hate the way he lets go of your hand to cover his eyes and shake his head.

     “Why’d you think I’d forget about you?” he sniffles and looks at you. “Iwa-chan, you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had! Don’t say that.”

     You smile a little and hug him, feeling your body buzz. You inhale the scent of his showered-hair and feel at peace. You remember the way he feels. You remember how his hands grips on your t-shirt and you remember the way his eyelash curls in your neck.

     “I’m sorry, Tooru.” You whisper in his hair and hold him tight. You pull away a little and look at him in the eyes. “Have fun in Tokyo, alright?”

     You are eight years-old when you kiss his cheek and whisper _goodnight_ in his ear, knowing that you’re gonna miss his touch once he leaves.

—

You are thirteen when you kiss him on the lips. You’re both coming home from school and you stare at him. You stare at the way the sun hits his face in an angelic way. You stare at the way his hands move comically in the story he’s telling. You stare at the way his eyes light up at a funny part in the story. You stare at the way his lips form at someone’s name and you think of how it would feel against yours.

     You stop walking and he does too. He looks at you in confusion and asks you, “What’s wrong, Iwa-chan?”

     You look at the way his hair bounces at his turn and how his brows furrow in confusion. You notice the way you step closer to him and take a shaky breath. His eyes cloud over in worry in confusion and you bite your lip.

     “O-Oika— _Tooru_ ,” you correct yourself and you watch him tilt his head in confusion. Your hands form into fists and you pinch your eyes shut. “C-Can I k-kiss you?”

     You feel the wind blow over you and wait. You don’t open your eyes; you don’t want to see if he left. You think to yourself, _I fucked up. I fucked up._

     You start to open your eyes before you feel his warm hand on your chin. “Iwa-chan,” he whispers and your heart thuds. You open your eyes and see him smiling.

     “Iwa-chan, why are you so cute?” he giggles and you start to open your mouth to retort something back before you feel weight on your lips and you breathe. Your body freezes, but also relaxes. Your eyes close again and you move your lips. You feel him smiling in your lips. Your body doesn’t feel sparks or there weren’t any fireworks.

     It feels like coming home from a tiring day and seeing that your mother had baked you your favourite cookies. It feels like eating them in your room and texting Tooru about volleyball. It’s like a relaxing day. Your head clears and your heart stops beating fast. It’s normal and you slump against him. Your hands find his and you intertwine them. You both slowly pull away and you’re both buzzing. You’re both flushed and wearing big grins in your faces.

     He leans his forehead against yours and sighs happily. “I love you, Hajime.”

     You feel yourself smile more and you feel warm. You look at him in the eyes and say with all your might, “I love you, too, Tooru.”

 The next three days are spent with kisses and instead of the usual wave; you both kiss each other and whisper _I love you_ in each other’s ear before parting.

     You are thirteen and you don’t ignore the feeling; you savour it.

—

You are fourteen when you tell your parents that you like boys at the dinner table. You watch as your mother tears up and leaves the table. You watch as your father drops his chopsticks and stares at you. You can hear your mother’s sobs in the next room and your heart aches. Your fingers grip the chopsticks and you think to yourself, _why did I say it? Why are they reacting like this?_ You watch the way your father throws the chair and shouts at you.

     “We did not raise you like this!”

     “We give you life, food, water, shelter, _everything_ and this is how you repay us?!”

     “Your mother and I didn’t raise a monster that touches lips with men.”

     You sit there and listen. You don’t feel tears. You feel emptiness and sadness. You stand up and ignore the way your father grips on your arm. You pull away and run to your room. You listen as he doesn’t run after you and lock yourself in your room.

     You lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. You hear your father screaming and your mother crying. You crave for his kiss and his touch. You feel tears stream down your face as you hear your father’s shouts of not wanting a gay child. You feel tears stream down your face as you hear him slam the door and the screeching of tires. You feel tears stream down your face and you look at the pictures in your drawer, one picture particularly—you and him kissing.

     You stand up and hide it under your clothes and you cry freely. You cry because you don’t want to be like this. You cry because of your sexuality. You cry because his kisses and touch make you feel happy. You cry because you know everyone will hate you.

     You cry until your tears have dried up and your heart is aching less. But the aching is still there. You cry until your throat has hurt so much that you no longer feel it. You cry until you sleep, with Oikawa Tooru in your dreams and kissing you and laughing with you. You fall asleep with a small smile.

—

You are fifteen when you kiss him goodbye. You kiss him on the lips at 18th street with tears in your eyes and lips aching to touch his forever. Your hands grips his and you kiss him with tears mixing in. You pull away and bury your head in his shoulder, gripping his shirt.

     “Iwa-chan, don’t leave me.” He cries in your ear and you cry harder. You shake your head and whisper _I’m sorry_ and kiss him one last time. You savour the way his lips fit perfectly against yours and the way his lips always taste like strawberries. You savour the way he breathes through his nose and how it hits you. You savour the way his hands grip your hair. You savour the way your body feels when you kiss him.

     You feel a strong hand pull you away and you turn around to see your father looking angry and disgusted.

     “Iwa-chan, no!” you hear him scream and you cry harder. You fight through your father but he pulls you harder. His hand comes to you and you intertwine them one more time and smile at the way they look perfect against each other.

     “I love you!” he screams as your father pushes you inside the car and closes the door. You look through the window and mouth _I love you more._ Tears stream down your face as your starts the car and drives away. You watch as he runs and tries to keep up with the fast, moving car. You think and open the window and throw your head out.

     “I love you, Tooru!” you scream at him and ignore your father yelling.

      “Hajime! Close the fucking window this instant!”

     “Don’t forget about me, Tooru! I’ll always love you!” you scream again until your voice is hoarse and you see him smile. You see people stopping and staring at you two and this only enrages your father more. You feel a hand grab your t-shirt and to force you down. You watch as the window rolls up with Tooru slowing down with tears in his eyes. You watch his chest heave and to kneel down the pavement. You glare at your father and cover your face with your hands.

     “You’ll thank me once you realize that you like girls. Moving houses is a good idea and you will thank me one day.”

     You bite back your insult and look out the window. You fall asleep with dried up tears and the thought of Tooru crying. You think to yourself that you hate your father and your mother.

—

You are eighteen and you are kissing girls. You’re a 3rd year and still live with your parents. You kiss girls and they are happy. You hate yourself because you know your father is probably thinking that he’s right. Moving would make you realize that you like girls. He is wrong. You sneak out and kiss boys with liquor on their lips and tasting like cigarettes. You kiss boys who are older than you and touch them. You ignore the way they don’t make you feel happy like Tooru’s kisses.  You ignore the way your body feels dirty and you ignore the way your lips long for soft lips that taste like strawberries and that fits perfectly against yours.

     You ignore the feeling and kiss girls in front of your parents to make them happy. You ignore the way your body feels like dying when your lips touch the lips of a girl. You ignore the way your mind flashes you an image of Tooru and kiss the girl deeper. You ignore the way your mother kisses you late at night when she thinks you’re asleep and whisper _I love you_ to you because she only said it when you’re now kissing girls. You ignore the way your father smiles at you proudly when he sees you holding hands with a girl.

     You lie in your room, in a bed that smells like detergent and not like flowers like Tooru. You look at the yellow ceiling instead of the pastel green one that Tooru has stuck little aliens and stars on them. You look at the picture underneath your clothes and think of brown eyes and brown hair. You think of skin that’s white as milk and a laugh that makes your heart beat faster. You think of soft fingers that always traces patterns in your palm. You think of a heart that is perfect with yours and a kiss that makes you feel dizzy.

     You think of Oikawa Tooru and cry in your sleep every night.

—

You are twenty-two now and happy. You are living alone without the watchful eyes of your parents. You come back to your hometown with a new feeling and buy an apartment and pursue a job of baking. You come home to pastel green walls and a dog named Dipper. You meet new friends and feel happy that they accept you. They don’t see you as a monster and something inside of you blossoms.

     You look for him every day. You go to every café and every school but find him nowhere. You smile and think to yourself, _you’ll find him, don’t worry._

     You spend every day waking up with hope as you go to different places. You don’t tell your friends this. You want to find him yourself and you’re trying. You bake cakes that you know he’ll love. You pass by stores and buy perfumes that you know he’ll love and put it on. You pass by every single thing and let it remind you of him.

     You spend every day waking up, slowly losing hope as you go to the same places. You’re getting tired and you crave for him. You can’t stop thinking about him and how you just want to touch him again. You still bake cakes for him and everything still reminds you of him. You miss him and you don’t know where he is.

—

You are twenty-two when you finally see him. Your heart thumps in your chest as you look at him sitting in the grass, at your usual spots, with combed brown hair and skin as white as milk. Your hands shake as his brown eyes meet yours and he stares. You watch as he stands up and looks into your eyes. Your vision becomes blurry as tears fill them and he smiles, tears streaming down his face.

     “Iwa-chan?” he whispers and you break down. You throw your arms around his neck and you hear his laugh in your ear and you miss it. So much. You miss the way his hands grips your t-shirt and you miss the way his laugh makes your heart beats the fastest. You grip him tight and whisper _I love you, Tooru_ a million times before his lips touch yours. You feel your body relax and you smile against the kiss. You love the way his lips are soft and how they fit perfectly against yours. You love the fact that they still taste like strawberries.

     “I missed you so much, Iwa-chan.” He whispers in your ear and you whisper it back. You both stand there until the sun sets and you both know it’s time to go home. You kiss each other between talks and you miss the way the sun hits his face in an angelic manner.

     You don’t ignore the feeling of his hand holding yours. You don’t ignore the feeling of your body buzzing with love and warmth. You lie in bed at night with him right beside you and Dipper at your feet. You look at the way his eyelash curls against his cheek and you smile, you interrupt him talking by kissing and he whines whilst hiding his face in your neck. You miss the way his eyelashes curl against your neck. You miss the way you bury your face into the side of his hair.

     “I love you so much.” You whisper in his ear and you laugh at the way his face heats up and to kick you lightly in the shin.

     You pull away and kiss him again. You kiss him until your lips are red. You kiss him until the sun comes up and you love the way it reflects in his eyes. You love the way you run your hand through his soft hair. You love the way he stares at you with red cheeks and a gentle smile in his lips. You love the way he leans into you for a kiss for the umpteenth time. You love the way you both fall asleep with fingers intertwined and lips close to each other. You love the way you love him.

     You are twenty-two and you think to yourself, _I love Oikawa Tooru and the way he makes me feel. He makes me so happy and I don’t want anything else from him._


End file.
